The Truth Burden
by Scarlet Kissed Vertigo
Summary: Stella Ariatt, a respectable career woman, was excited about her new job. But from the moment she arrived in Gotham he made her life that bit more difficult for her. But the game changes when she becomes a target. B/OC
1. Stella

**The Truth Burden**

**1**

Stella

She'd never really taken a liking to black dress occasions. Conferences, meetings – anything solely professional she revelled in. But having to mix business with the art of socio/political discourse (the ridiculously wealthy's bullshit) was something Stella Ariatt generally avoided. Mingling with the pompous was a draining and tedious exercise.

She knew how to do it (the right things to say, smiling and nodding in the right places etc.) but engaging with the snobs over their luxuries and privileges was not her idea of enjoyable conversation.

He knew that the moment she detangled herself from one of the moguls present and excused herself to the drinks table where she took a rather large drink of a glass of wine.

"Interesting tactic." His lips quirked upwards as he made his way towards her. She tucked a strand of her mid back length blonde hair behind her ear with a sheepish smile.

"You caught me." Her accent was vaguely English but judging by its loose hold on her words she'd been in the US for some time.

"Don't worry, I can keep a secret." He smiled, reaching for one of the flutes of champagne and taking a sip. "So what brings you to this delightful gathering?" He guessed she was a socialite.

"I'm supposed to meet with a Mr Fox regarding my new position at Wayne Enterprises." But he'd been wrong before.

"Oh really?" He prompted, a mixture of amusement and wonder in his expression.

"Yes, in International Relations." This woman was full of surprises. Although, he should know better than to judge a book by its cover.

"Sounds interesting. What does that role require?" He, of course, already knew the answer but enjoyed the conversation too much to reveal otherwise.

"A fluency in a range of languages, for the most part." He nodded at her answer and gestured with a wave of his hand at a passing waiter to casually pick one of the finger foods on the tray he was carrying.

"What languages are you fluent in?" He asked, popping a piece of cheese into his mouth.

"German, French , Spanish, Russian, Chinese and Japanese." The major trading powers native languages, a wisely selected variety. He suspected that they hadn't just been random choices for a challenging hobby. Her intelligent blue eyes twinkled with a spark of pride.

"Impressive." He acknowledged, smiling back at her. A thought struck him, vaguely wicked, but too tempting to pass off. Especially when she was new to Gotham. "Do you have the of name your new boss?"

"Yes, a Mr Bruce Wayne."

"Ah, yes I've heard of him. Have you met him yet?"

"No, although I've heard plenty." She added more to herself than him.

"Really?" He could barely conceal the wry smile.

"Ignorant, arrogant, playboy billionaire." Certainly a persona he was well acquainted with.

"Do you think it's true?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I'll just have to wait and see. With a bit of luck, he won't be. " He was about to reply when a dark skinned man emerged from the crowd and brought an end to his fun.

"You must be Miss Estelle Ariatt." They shook hands. "Lucius Fox."

"It's a pleasure to meet you Mr Fox." She smiled warmly but he noted the confidence she utilised when making the shift to professional mode. His lips twitched upwards.

"And you, it's nice to finally have a face for the name. I see you've already met Mr Wayne." Oh her _face _was certainly a picture. To discover the man she'd just been bitching to was her employer came as more than a little shock. Much to his amusement she visibly paled.

"Pardon?" Her voice came out weak. He jumped back into the conversation.

"Ah yes, I forgot to introduce myself. My apologies." He offered her his hand which she took after a moment's hesitation. "Bruce Wayne. I look forward to working with you, _Estelle_." He smirked, holding onto her hand and eye contact for longer than necessary. Her heart spasmed. She forced her brain back into gear and managed to close her parted lips. Swallowing, she collected herself.

"As do I, Mr Wayne." His smirk never faltered, even as he excused himself and disappeared back into the crowd.

* * *

><p>She hadn't technically done anything <em>wrong<em>. She tried to reason the following day as she made her way to her first day of work. She'd just made a complete fool of herself. She groaned, attracting the eyes of the secretary sat behind the desk opposite her.

"Is everything alright, Miss Ariatt?"

"Yes, thank you." She sent the older woman a small smile, watching her turn back to her typing. She sat listening to the taping of the keys for a while, waiting to be summoned into the conference room. She straightened her posture, brushing her suit's pencil skirt out of habit and strengthened her resolve.

She was just going to have to put it behind her. She was a professional woman who had worked hard to build her respectable reputation. She would not allow one slight embarrassment change her work ethic. This was her career path and no smug playboy was going to knock her confidence.

The entrance into the waiting area swung open and in stepped one Bruce Wayne. She froze, her back locking in a rigid line as his eyes fell on her. _Professional, professional, professional._ She reminded herself.

"Miss Ariatt, what a wonderful surprise."

"Indeed Mr Wayne." She made a point of glancing down at her watch because he was, in fact, twenty minutes late. His brown eyes twinkled with amusement.

"Ah yes, I do apologise time keeping is not one of my strongest skills. Shall we?" He raised his arm in an 'after-you' notion towards the meeting room. She nodded, standing and striding towards the door. Acutely aware of his gaze on her. The board was already waiting inside and raised their eyes to observe the pair walking in. She took in their cold and calculated stares (excluding Lucius Fox) with an impassive grace. Lucius motioned with a wave of his hand to two vacant seats at the head of the table. She had held onto some slither of hope that she would not have to sit directly beside Bruce Wayne. Since part of her job was to be his personal translator, she should have known better. She restrained the sigh and instead slid into the leather chair, nodding at the two French businessmen opposite her. Their English was good but there was still some grey areas.

"Estelle, please inform these men their calculations did not take into consideration the rates of inflated goods and the efficiency of their products." She suppressed the twinge of annoyance at his informal address – it wouldn't have bothered her if it wasn't for the fact he was doing it deliberately to rattle her cage. She kept her expression neutral, nodding and doing as he'd asked. Fine, she would play his game. She decided, meeting his gaze as she finished translating. She arched one eyebrow and he laughed silently down his nose. Challenge accepted.

**To continue or to scrap? Thoughts?**


	2. Translation

_**Soundtrack: Two Steps From Hell – Undying Love**_

This music I think is a theme for The Truth Burden – I've been listening to it for inspiration.

**With thanks to oodlesofdoodles, cretaceous, i'moneinamillion and pourquoibella I got ridiculously excited when I saw your comments so thank you very much I really appreciate it :D**

**The Truth Burden**

**2**

Translation

Stella Ariatt had been working at Wayne Enterprises for two months. According to Lucius Fox, the infamous Prince of Gotham was only supposed to make appearances two or three times every month and that was to close business deals. He had, in fact, appeared at least two of three times **a week**. And not all of them were necessarily business related. He often stopped by her office simply – it seemed – to wind her up.

"_I've come for an update on your boss. Is there any new developments on that list of yours?" Some people would have just ignored this. Stella was __not__ one of those people._

"_Yes. Charming." _

"_Estelle Ariatt giving the arrogant playboy a compliment?" He'd faked surprise whilst she'd impassively gathered her papers from one of her cabinets._

"_Not really." She'd replied, checking them over before raising her gaze to meet his. "He uses his charm for really quite disturbing purposes. He's a womanizer." Then turned and left the room smirking. _

_Wayne: 1 Ariatt: 1_

When he did sit in meetings he'd find some way to drag her into the conversation; regardless of if her opinion was needed or remotely relevant. Even if he was half asleep (she had been stunned to find him snoozing beside her on a handful of occasions and had been obliged to update him on whatever had been discussed and/or decided). If these opportunities had arose in any of her previous jobs she would have jumped at the chance to shine. But not when Bruce Wayne was doing it just so he could put her on the spot and smile that (stupidly handsome) smug smile.

Deliberately provoking her! The nerve of that man. And the subtle retaliations she made just seemed to amuse him.

Although, truth be told, she enjoyed their… exchanges. She enjoyed being around him altogether. His appearances made her work days significantly more interesting. Not that she would stroke his ego by letting it show. His somewhat charismatic aura was amiable to be around, she acknowledged, watching him talk during a conference one day.

Despite his habit of making things more difficult for her, he was an attractive man. Although this could also, admittedly, be infuriating at times. Especially when he still refused to address her in a professional manner, preferring to call her by her first name.

He never did it to any of his other staff.

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Today had started off badly enough. First off, she'd missed her train and was late for work. Which meant she was late getting the memo that the meeting scheduled for the afternoon had been rearranged for that morning. She cursed Bruce Wayne all the way from her office to the conference room. _What the hell_ could be so important that he felt warranted changing the scheduling of such an important meeting? She stifled a groan as she snatched a glance down at her watch, running along another corridor. Stella just hoped that Monsieur Rousseau could speak fluent enough English so that her absence wasn't as noticeable. She could imagine the glowering of the board if the French tycoon was struggling to communicate, especially when they were coming so close to securing a deal. Pausing to catch her breath outside the doors of the conference room, she collected herself. Stopping to straighten her suit before pushing the door open and walking in. Her display of calm professionalism worked for the most part. Expect on the billionaire playboy who could tell almost instantly how flustered she was. Her eyes swept the room and narrowed when they fell on him. This was all _his_ fault. He just smiled back at her.

"Ah, Estelle, we'd just started." She gave a curt nod - it _would_ be one of the times he acted as chairman of the meeting instead of leaving it in (her opinion) the far more capable hands of Lucius Fox. Great. As if she really needed the added attention of sitting at the very end of the table where all her co-workers could fix haughty stares on her. Fabulous.

"My apologies, I had a problem with transportation." Ignoring the annoyed stares from the other board members, Stella picked out Rousseau.

"Toutes mes excuses pour le retard." She apologised, offering her hand. "Jespère que vous êtes bien?"

The Frenchman nodded, offering a polite smile as they shook.

"Oui, very well thank you. I must say, Miss Ariatt, you rise to your reputation." He replied, watching her slide into her seat opposite him. As Bruce had predicted, her pretty face dissolved his sour mood for the delay and her impressive multilingualism served to keep him sweet. The negotiation continued for the best part of an hour but by the end of the meeting they achieved their purpose and all that remained was for the correct paperwork to be drawn up and the necessary legalities fulfilled. She shook hands with Rousseau again before attempting to make a speedy exit. She almost managed it, being halfway down the corridor before he caught up.

"Estelle!" She stifled a sigh and turned round to face him.

"Mr Wayne."

"I have a favour to ask." Her eyebrows rose, she was in no mood for doing _him _any favours. "Perhaps we could talk more in my office?" Her eyebrows rose further and she eyed him warily. Since when did he look so serious? She fell into step beside him but he refused to give any further details until the door to his office shut behind them. He gestured towards one of the leather chairs opposite his mahogany desk and she slid onto it as he moved to the window.

"It's more for my friend than me." He began, avoiding eye contact. Whatever he was about to ask he wasn't particularly comfortable with. "She's the Assistant DA and is working on a case to bring down one of Gotham's leading criminals. One of the witnesses is from Russia-." Stella could see where this was going and straightened up in her chair, leaning closer.

"He either knows limited English or is using it as a front." Which required someone fluent in the language to communicate for the two parties. But in case something should happen to him they needed a secondary account. "She needs an impartial translator." He nodded, a vague smile on his lips at her perceptiveness. She was new enough to Gotham to not have any loyalties or solidified opinions as of yet and was an expert in the Russian language. He'd thought this through. She hesitated.

"Who exactly is this crime lord?" His smile vanished at the question and for the first time since they'd entered the room he met her eyes.

"Sal Maloni." As new as she might be to Gotham she wasn't ignorant. She saw the newspapers. She'd heard about the cities underground activities. If she stood against this man, as she would undoubtedly be called to, she would be standing against his allies also. And if the witness was Russian, that heavily suggested Chechen's involvement. She suppressed a shiver.

"Alright." She began slowly, swallowing. "I'll do it."

"Very well, we'll meet with Rachel and Mr Dent this afternoon." She nodded, chewing her lower lip absentmindedly. It struck her how quiet his office was. Eerie almost, although that could have just been the weight of what lay ahead of her. She was by no means naïve.

"Why is it so quiet in here?" She asked, more to distract herself.

"Soundproof, it helps me think." _Or sleep_. She thought dryly, her lips twitching upwards. Though it explained why he insisted on waiting until they were safely inside before giving her any more information. She swallowed again as her thoughts circled right back to Gotham's gangs. Stella would stand up for what was right, even if the prospect was daunting. She knew how these people worked. She just hoped that they would be put behind bars before they got to her or found those she was beginning to care about.

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The holding cells were cold and dark. An appropriately intimidating place to keep criminals. The scent of damp assaulted her senses as Stella stepped into the Gotham's prison. Ignoring her boss's scrutiny, she left the safety of the elevator and began to walk past the cells.

"Estelle, relax. They can't touch you." She didn't need to ask who 'they' were, giving a jerky nod as they turned a corner.

"Stella." She instead corrected quietly, her eyes straying to the handful of police officers clustered around the glass pane looking into the interrogation room. "If you're going to insist on informality, I prefer Stella outside of work."

"I do insist." She smiled wryly to herself at the predicated reply.

"Very well." She murmured as a brunette woman emerged from the group and made her way towards them.

"Rachel, this is Stella Ariatt." Bruce introduced,

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Stella. Bruce stressed how good you are - I can't express my gratitude enough for you helping us." She successfully hid her surprise, shaking Rachel's hand as a fair haired man approached from behind. "Stella this is Harvey Dent." She recognized his face almost instantly as Gotham's DA.

"You're just in time Miss Ariatt, they're bringing Yasov in now." Her blue eyes flickered to the glass pane and watched as the prisoner clad in his orange uniform entered through doors on the opposite side. Tall, bald and covered in tattoos; he was the stereotypical thug she'd been expecting. The metal cuffs looked feeble around his bulky wrists. Her back straightened, waiting for the sparks of fear. They never came. Watching his beady eyes scan his surroundings she felt a new determination spread through her. Suddenly she was no longer intimidated. Let them try and get her.

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Soooooo thoughts? I know it's short, sorry :S This chapter might be a bit boring as it's kind of like another introduction – getting her involved in events and showing the beginning of an evolving relationship with Bruce himself. Please let me know what you think :) xx


	3. Communication

**With thanks to i'moneinamillion**** and ****DancingMagpie**** thank you so much for your feedback and I am thrilled (and very relieved) that you like the story so far. I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. **

**The Truth Burden**

**3**

Communication

"_Vy znaete pochemu ja zdes'_." [You know why I am here.] Stella stared Yasov straight in the eye and had watched a momentary glimmer of surprise at her excellently spoke Russian. She explained in a calm, guarded voice who she was before proceeding to probe him with Harvey Dent's questions. They discovered, after an hour of cloaked threats and bargaining, that he was actually a member of Chechen's gang. The suspected alliances were proved true, when he casually commented that they had been working alongside the Falcone family. Drugs, of course, were the goods that they were jointly distributing, selling and murdering over.

"Ask him where they meet." She did but Yasov simply smirked. The man practically radiated a sickening smugness. It was as if he was actually enjoying his interrogation.

"_Otvet'te na vopros._" [Answer the question.] Stella pressed, her blue eyes fixated on his steely ones. He paused, leaning on the table. She suppressed the reflexive action to lean back in response and simply strengthened her icy stare. If she allowed any cracks in her appearance to show he would pick up on them instantly and use them to his advantage.

"_Zachem?_ " [What for?] He asked, tilting his head to the side in the way that was meant to be intimidating. Teetering on the edge of invading her space and expressing an air of superiority. A normally effective tactic, she betted, wondering how many times he'd used it on his victims. Behind her, Harvey stopped his deliberate pacing and stepped closer. Ready to spring into action should she feel threatened. When she didn't move he stopped and waited.

"_Vy ubijca. Vy riskuete smertnoj kazn'ju_." [You are a murderer. You risk the death penalty.] She half snapped, before reining in her composure and settling for another cold stare. Watching from behind the pane of glass, Bruce Wayne felt a twinge of frustration. Pressing his lips into a thin line he restrained himself from growling a curse. Since he was the reason she was here in the first place (and a close friend of Rachel's) he'd been permitted to stay. That made finding out Yasov's information a lot easier for Batman but required restraint from him to not stride into the room and beat the details out of the thug. This was taking far longer than necessary. And he didn't like Stella's growing discomfort.

Her posture was rigid and her tone gave away her agitation. He wanted to know what was being said and he wanted to know now. Was he threatening her? Was there a subtle hint in his words that indicated they were coming after her? It wouldn't surprise him. Mob members made a hobby of underlining the next targets. It gave them a sick satisfaction when their victims were attacked/vanished/killed. His fists clenched. He'd just have to wait. Impatiently.

"_Nu I chto? Moj boss ub'et menja. Ja mertvec. No jetot put' ja mogu zashhitit' svoih druzej_." [So what? My boss will kill me. I am a dead person. This way I can protect my friends.] Without removing her gaze from the criminal's she relayed his words back to the equally as impatient DA.

"Tell him we can press for life in a secure prison as long as he co-operates." She did, but Yasov dismissed it with a shrug of his shoulders. They would get him, he was certain, and it would be far more painful than the lethal injection. Harvey growled something under his breath, told the policeman standing on both doors of the room to watch him before stepping outside to make a phone call. For a moment Yasov eyed Stella. Cuffed to the table nailed into the floor and with two armed guards he couldn't do anything. But that didn't stop her unease at his close scrutiny.

"_Kompromiss_." [Compromise] He started, leaning back casually in his chair. The metal creaked from the strain of holding his bulky form. "_Ja dam Vam zagadku. Esli Vy mozhete reshit' jeto togda, Vy zarabotali svoju informaciju_." [I will give you a riddle. If you can solve it then, you have earned the information.] She frowned; he had either had a serious change of heart or thought they wouldn't be able to figure out his game. She paused for a moment, wondering if she should wait for Dent to reappear. But Rachel and the Commissioner would be listening through the microphones rigged in various hidden parts of the room. She spread her hands out on the table separating them and motioned for him to continue.

[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

"_Thousands lay up gold within this house,_

_but no man made it._

_Spears past counting guard this house,_

_but no man wards it."_

Yasov's riddle continued to haunt her the next day, and she was no closer to figuring it out. She even began to doubt her translating at one point, before dismissing the notion. Rachel had given her a card with her contact details on it; just in case she did manage to solve it. Or the second one he'd also graced her with.

"_Twigs but no roots, leaves but no shoots;_

_Faring forever, over the sand._

_Filmmakers love me, but ranchers, they hate me._

_I came here from Russia, isn't life grand?"_

She guessed it would be some kind of password should she actually manage to piece together his first puzzle. She just hoped Harvey and his assistant were having more luck than she was. Her morning meetings passed in a blur, not that she paid much attention to them. Her mind was obviously preoccupied – when she'd glanced at the notes she was supposed to be taking she discovered the page was covered in brainstorming focusing around the Russian's riddles. She entered into her department to find the staff working at their stations looking at her. One eyebrow arched and they went back to their screens, she didn't miss their exchanged glances or hushed murmuring. _Well that was odd_. She rolled her eyes to the ceiling and kept walking. God only knew what gossip they had heard and she was in no mind to address it at the current moment. Her secretary, Oliver, smiled at her when she entered the separating room before her office.

"Good afternoon, Miss Ariatt." He practically sang; that was her first sign. Even for him – a huge optimist - that was happier than usual.

"Good afternoon, Oliver." She replied, surveying him suspiciously. What was with her staff? "Anything new?" She asked, the question was professional but she was watching for any tell-tale signs of juicy rumours he was just dying to tell her about.

"No." He answered cheerily.

"Okay then…" She sent him one last look before stepping into her office.

And found the cause for all the weird behaviour. A large white box lay on her workspace and one Bruce Wayne was stood observing outside from her window.

"Your view is better than mine." His smile and casual comment meant he was probably well aware of the disturbance his appearance had caused.

"Good afternoon, Mr Wayne." She greeted, moving to deposit her papers in one of her draws.

"Bruce." He corrected, sliding into one the chairs facing her desk.

"We're at work." She replied, sitting down in her own seat behind the oak surface.

"We're also alone." He had her with that one, although at the same time she didn't see entirely see the relevance. They weren't exactly friends, as such. She relented anyway with an absent minded nod, her gaze resting curiously on the parcel in front of her. "Open it, Stella." He prompted when she made no move to touch it. She sent him a wary glance before lifting the lid off. Inside was a navy gown. "What do you think?"

"It's beautiful. I'm just not quite sure why it's on my desk." She raised her gaze to meet his, one eyebrow arched.

"It's a thank you, for helping Rachel. You were excellent yesterday."

"Mr Way- Bruce. You really shouldn't have…" She told him, her shoulders shifting uncomfortably as she stared at what was probably a ridiculously expensive dress.

"Yes, I should have. I was also hoping you would wear it to attend a small gathering this evening." A small gathering most likely meant around 200 of Gotham's upper class, donned in their finest.

"Gathering?" She questioned sceptically. She had planned to go home and relax tonight. Have a good long shower then sit in front of the television watching whatever movie was on.

"Yes. It's dinner with a few friends." Okay, ten social elite. That was a lot more manageable; she tried to reason with herself. A thought struck her and she froze. Was he asking her to be his date?

"What's the occasion?" She asked slowly, her heart beating a little faster.

"Mr Rousseau is departing back to France tomorrow. The deal has been finalised so it's a celebration in our good friend's honour." She felt herself relax again. It wasn't a date, it was business. Although that did, unfortunately, mean that the numbers **would** be more like 200.

"I see, well then I look forward to it." She gave him a faint smile, replacing the lid on the box and standing to place it on top of one of the filing cabinets.

"Excellent." He stood briskly, straightening his suit jacket and moving to the door. "I'll pick you up around 8ish?" Her head snapped round to look at him so fast he was amazed she didn't give herself whiplash. She recovered quickly enough from her shock, nodding mutely. He flashed her a smile before turning and departing from the room. Leaving a stunned blonde in his wake.

[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Thoughts? I hope this was easy enough to follow. If you can solve the riddles I'll give you a cookie ;) NO CHEATING! I apologise if there's any mistakes/poor writing as it is currently late and I was dying to post this so I hope you like

SKV


	4. Hamartia

_Soundtrack_: Coldplay - Charlie Brown (skip to about 00:25 and ignore the annoying voice)

**I think it has a nice melody so goes well with Bruce and Stella's growing relationship.**

_With thanks to guess who (Not quite and I'm going to guess DancingMagpie), i'moneinamillion (CHEATER! No cookies for you xD), pourquoibella (okay i'll try to remember :) ), caitlinnoelle, Kassandra J, Yaba, Padmefan17, Rosewood of Brazil (nice try) and patie. I got ridiculously excited when I noticed it had been added to a community. Hahaha - I need to get out more. I hope this doesn't disappoint. Enjoy. There are some hints for later chapters in this one ;). _

P.S I put a picture of Stella's dress on my profile.

**The Truth Burden**

**4**

Hamartia

"_In every human being there exists a hamartia - a fatal flaw - in our design."_

Stella was fussing. She'd been ready half an hour ago but that didn't stop her fidgeting with her dress or re-checking she had everything she needed in her purse.

"You look great. Stop it." Her cousin and flatmate, Lucy, chided from her bedroom doorway. The redhead even wolf whistled for added effect - which was totally wasted on Stella; still busying herself by going through her clutch. Again. "I thought you said it was a work dinner."

"It is."

"Then why are you nervous?"

"I'm not nervous."

"Liar." The knock on her apartment door saved her from the impending interrogation and made her pulse quicken. Lucy sent the blonde a last glance before leaving the room to answer it. Surveying her reflection for the final time, Stella stepped into the hallway.

The man standing on the other side of the opened front door was not who she was expecting. Instead of her date (if you could call Bruce that) an aging man greeted them with a warm smile. She felt her chest deflate with a surprising disappointment, only just remembering to smile politely back at him before he spoke.

"You must be Miss. Ariatt. It's a pleasure to meet you; I'm Alfred - Master Wayne's butler." He informed her with a warm smile, his cockney accent snapping pleasantly round his words. "Master Wayne sends his apologies but he's been caught up in some business and will have to meet you at the event. I'm to drive you there." Her heart sank a little more when another wave of disappointment hit her.

She hesitated. Surely if it was work related she would be aware of some kind of problem - even if it was outside of her division. Her female doubts surfaced, the image of him turning up with a woman on either arm passed through her mind's eye. There was a reason he'd earned a playboy name for himself. What if this 'business' was personal. Lucy was staring at her, Stella pretended to not notice. She'd neglected to mention exactly who her escort was.

Her concerns must have leaked into her expression.

"He is sincerely sorry, Miss. It was unavoidable but he is looking forward to spending this evening with you." _'You'_, singular, that made her feel instantly better. Her mind also registered two other words - 'looking forward'.

"He is?" She blurted. Her cheeks burned as she mentally scolded herself for the slip up. If Alfred or Lucy noticed, they didn't show it. Hopefully that meant the makeup she was going to spend an hour chiselling off later was doing it's job. The butler simply nodded, smiling at her warmly again. Stella kissed Lucy on the cheek, mumbled a 'goodnight' (still avoiding eye contact) before following the older man down the hallway.

The car journey there was relatively quiet. Odd, Alfred thought, considering how she'd managed to create a conversation all the way from her apartment door, through the elevator ride, right up until the moment he'd started the engine. From then on she said nothing else but minimal answers to his polite questions. When he snatched a glance in the mirror he found her posture stiff and assumed it was in anticipation of the other attendees.

"You get yourself a nice glass of champagne, Miss. Ariatt. That'll loosen you up until Master Wayne arrives." He told her, pulling out onto the road.

"Pardon? Oh no, I can handle that." She came out of her intent study of the back of the passenger seat, and forced a smile. Alfred paused, watching her eyes slide back to staring directly in front of her. Snatching glances when he could, he failed to see her relax once. She continued to look equally as uncomfortable.

"Is something bothering you, Miss. Ariatt?" He asked after a stretched silence.

"No, no I'm fine - just not a fan of cars. It's not travel sickness, don't worry." Stella added quickly, when he opened his mouth to, undoubtedly, ask if he needed to pull over.

"I'm sure Master Wayne would love to hear that. He's rather fond of his automobiles." He earned a grin and a light chuckle.

"Playboys and their play toys." Alfred laughed softly down his nose.

"Oh, you have no idea." He murmured.

[ ] [ ] [ ] [ ] [ ]

Whatever 'business' had kept Bruce was evidently taken care of as he was waiting for her outside the hotel. She wasn't sure whether his momentary taken back expression was a good or bad thing, but in the next second he'd blinked and greeted her with a familiar smile. He offered his hand and helped her slide out of the car onto the walkway.

"Good evening."

"Good evening." She replied allowing him to tuck her hand through his arm and walk them towards the entrance. "Alfred mentioned something had come up, is everything alright?" She asked, ignoring how toned his bicep was under her fingers. Despite it being covered by his suit. She swallowed, glancing over her shoulder to wave at the butler in question.

"Ah yeah, sorry, it was unavoidable. Just some loose ends in Applied Science, nothing too serious." She frowned. Applied Science? What on earth was he doing down there? And what could be unavoidable yet not too serious?

"Oh?" Their conversation was cut short.

"Estelle!" Monsieur Rousseau commanded her attention the moment they stepped into the hall, sweeping her in an embrace and planting kisses on both cheeks. "_Vous êtes plus belle que les étoiles_!" He declared, snatching glances at his companions who eagerly nodded in agreement. Four she recognized as the partners that had accompanied him on his visit, the other five were members of the board. She suspected at least three of them didn't understand a word he'd said. She squashed a smirk and instead smiled politely at the Frenchman.

"_Merci_. Monsieur, you are too kind." He dismissed her words with a wave before greeting Bruce. As they shook hands Rousseau directed a mock frown at Bruce. "Mister Wayne, I blame you not for wanting to keep this flower for yourself but you must permit me to steal her for a dance." Well that was almost too predictable, Stella smiled to herself as he took the hand Bruce had previously placed on his arm and looped it through his own.

"When you put it that way, who am I to deny you?" Her employer's eyes were twinkling when they looked back at her. Amusement. He'd seen that coming from a mile away too. Was that a knowing look they were exchanging? She blinked as Rousseau led her away onto the floor.

She allowed the Frenchman two dances before excusing herself to rejoin Bruce, who's gaze (unbeknownst to Stella) had failed to leave her the entire time she was away. He smiled watching her approach, the contagious smile of his that she found herself returning. His gaze flickered a moment before a figure stepped in her way, blocking her escort from view and simultaneously her path.

"You must be Miss. Ariatt." Her blue eyes moved up to meet the speaker's and her heart missed a beat.

"I am." She swallowed, straightening her back and quickly snapping on the poker face she'd perfected for work, she managed to pull off a small smile as the older man regarded her.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Salvatore Maroni." He offered his hand which to forced herself to take, he flipped it round in his grasp and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. She suppressed the urge to recoil and reminded herself to remain calm. He couldn't possibly harm her when in the company of so many people. "I hear you've become friends with an old associate of mine?"_ Yasov_. The image of the Russian sprung into her mind's eye. Somehow, she successfully kept her face straight. "He mentioned you before he... passed away." They had got to him after all. Just as he had predicted they would. Her insides went cold and she swallowed, feeling a crack forming in her façade as her legs began to feel weaker. "I believe he shared something with you, Miss. Ariatt, do you mind telling me what it was?"

"I'm sorry, I don't know this person." She found her voice; fortunately it came out impassive. His eyes narrowed and his smile dropped to a vague twitch of the lips. Displeased with her answer he opened his mouth to respond but a hand on Stella's shoulder interrupted the conversation.

"Ah Estelle, they're serving the food now, we should take our seats." Bruce's arm went round her waist and with a polite nod to Maroni he steered her away. He waited until they were out of earshot before murmuring. "Are you alright?"

"Fine." Was the too quick reply. He snatched a glance at her face, her mind was already elsewhere. Back on the riddles no doubt. Throughout their meal she remained vaguely distant and would lapse in and out of the conversation. Though he couldn't help but admire the way she could put on a face and converse with the other guests, particularly Rousseau who was especially charmed by her.

It was when the desert arrived that her brain really began to put pieces together. She declined her own serving on the account that one of the multiple treats in the generous variety was _bound_ to contain a trace of nuts. Much to Bruce's amusement however she did steal one of the chocolate covered strawberries from his plate when she thought he wasn't looking. She grinned guiltily when he looked back at her with one arched eyebrow. She gave a 'mmm delicious', making him chuckle. Watching the other attendees surrounding her tuck in, her eyes fell on a particular truffle with a drizzling of honey.

"_Thousands lay up gold within this house,_

_but no man made it._

_Spears past counting guard this house,_

_but no man wards it."_

Her eyes widened, could it really be that simple?

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The next morning as the elevator doors parted, Stella couldn't help but let out a yawn. At around two Bruce had gotten a call that _something else_ had come up. Beginning to feel the affects of alcohol she hadn't pressed him but instead agreed to Alfred driving her home. Getting only five hours of sleep was_ not_ going to agree with her later. She'd thought about calling Oliver and telling him she wouldn't be in until noon, as undoubtedly the other board members were going to do, but she'd decided that she had too much work and it wouldn't be worth having to catch up on it later. She stepped onto the floor of one of her departments to be greeted by her ever cherpy assistant, faithfully baring a coffee.

"Oliver, you are a star." She murmured in relief, taking a sip of the steaming beverage and giving a content sigh. He beamed back at her before reeling off her schedule. They walked into one of the open planned offices, various employees already inside turning to look at them when Stella strode into the room. It didn't take a genius to figure out they were talking about her. The unanimous jumps back to their own desks and quick aversions of eye contact were a big enough hint. Excellent, she was once again the topic of choice. She resisted the urge to snap something colourful, instead opting to walk straight past them and into the waiting room of her office. She paused so Oliver could finish his morning recital and her eyes fell on the stack of reading material on the coffee table.

"I'm on the front of the newspaper. Why am I on the front of the newspaper?" Her eyes narrowed and she quickly placed her latte down so she could snatch up the offending piece in question.

_'Bruce Wayne's new Blonde Bombshell_.' The headline informed her, a photograph of her arm linked with Bruce's as they walked into last night's hotel covered the page.

"Bombshell? _Bombshell_?" She hissed incredulously. "I am not – **not **– a piece of sexualised meat! How bloody dare they?" She fumed, leaving a bewildered Oliver behind as she stormed into her office. She threw it with more force than necessary into the bin, sinking into her chair behind her desk with a dramatic sigh. No wonder they had been gossiping.

She was too tired (and grumpy) to deal with this right now. She pushed it out of her head and set to work. The morning past quicker than she anticipated and when she glanced at her watch it was half twelve. She considered being lazy and asking Oliver to get her something to eat when he went out to for his own lunch then changed her mind. Reaching for the telephone on her left she dialled the familiar number.

"Mr. Fox, it's Stella, I'm about to pop out for some food would you like me to bring you anything?" She asked, tucking the receiver between her shoulder and ear to free hands so she could pack her papers away.

"_No thank you, Estelle._"

"_Stella!_" An all too familiar voice on the line replaced Lucius's deeper tone. "_How are you this lovely day?_"

"Very well, Mr. Wayne." She rolled her eyes to herself, pausing in her shuffling. "I don't suppose you would like anything for lunch?" She asked dryly, her lips quirking upwards when he chuckled.

"_I would be delighted to join you for lunch._" Now that wasn't _quite_ what she had been offering. "_I've actually been meaning to talk to you about our Russian guests's next month; I was hoping you could pass on some of your wisdom and teach me some Russian before then._"

"I could teach you some basic phrases before then." She replied slowly. A month? Really? She couldn't work miracles.

"_Excellent, we'll make it a work lunch. Where did you have in mind?_"

"I'm not entirely sure." She admitted, running a hand through her hair.

"_Well aren't you lucky that I know a great place?_"

"Very lucky." She shook her head, this man's ego was ridiculous.

"_The Ocelot, meet you in the lobby in 5 minutes?_" She paused, glancing round her office, feeling suddenly much more fidgety. Drive in one of his ridiculously expensive cars? Be subjected to more media attention? No.

"I'll meet you there, I have to drop some things off first."

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Bruce arrived at The Ocelot to be instantly ushered to his usual booth a glass of the house's finest waiting, he hadn't been sat waiting long when he was joined by a blonde woman. That was not Stella.

"Bruce!" His playboy name could not have come back to bite him at a worse time. Her companion was a tall brunette woman, at some point in the past three months he had 'dated' them both. They slid into the vacant spots beside him, leaning uncomfortably close to him. They practically curved themselves into his arms. Karma seemed hell bent on getting him.

"I do hope I'm not interrupting anything." Bruce's head snapped up to find a less than impressed Stella coldly surveying them.

They say women can tell, at first glance, whether or not they like another woman. For Stella, at that moment, it would had certainly seemed to be true. She definitely did **not** like either of these _shameless _girls hanging off the billionaire in front of her.

"Estelle!" Later, it would amuse her how much he initially looked like a deer caught in headlights. At the time, she wanted to show him how hard British girls could punch. The press would love it if his 'bombshell' gave him a black eye. "Care to join us?"

"You must be joking." Was the dry reply."Mr. Wayne, with respect," _Very little respect_, she thought, eyeing one minimally dressed female. "When I'm around for business purposes I would appreciate it if your personal _**acquaintances **_were not."

"Point taken, ladies, perhaps some other time." They made all the expected noises of flirtatious disappointment before rising and retreating back to their own table. Stella grimaced as they practically purred his name on their departure. She slid into the chair opposite him without sparing him a glance. The more lightened opinion he'd earned the previous night had darkened again.

"I didn't invite them. They were already here when I arrived." The dubious quirk of her eyebrows as she scanned the menu meant she wasn't buying it. For the first time since she met him, a silence fell between them. She ordered a glass of water and sipped it as her eyes took in her surroundings for lack of anything better to do. She could almost picture the tumble weed rolling past them.

"Tumble weed..." She glanced up, but Bruce didn't return her gaze. His eyes were trained on something behind her. Probably the bimbos that had just been drooling over him, she thought sourly, no wonder he'd gone quiet. She rolled her eyes and put her mind back onto focus.

"_Twigs but no roots, leaves but no shoots;_

_Faring forever, over the sand._

_Filmmakers love me, but ranchers, they hate me._

_I came here from Russia, isn't life grand?"_

"That's it!" She declared suddenly, her logic pushing everything into place. Grinning madly, she dug round in her purse to retrieve her phone.

"What?" Bruce questioned, shooting her a confused look.

"Yasov's riddles!" If she hadn't been so pleased she would have been more aware of how he stiffened and his eyes snapped back to behind her. Instead she ignored him, busy searching for Rachel's card. She found it and quickly pressed the numbers in. "Rachel, it's Stella, I've got it. The first one it's a Beehive; the gold is honey and the spears are the stings _guarding_ the hive. The second is Tumble Weed, Kali Tragus, to be specific - the Russian thistle and it's always in _western_ movies!" She finished her phone call quickly and jumped to her feet. No longer hungry and too pleased to sit and make idle chit chat with an arrogant playboy, she planned on finishing early and heading home to celebrate with a bottle of wine. She wondered which kind Rachel liked... Bruce had remained quiet the entire time she was on the phone and now decided to speak up.

"Where are you going?"

"Back to work." She answered, turning and walking away.

"Wait, I'll give you a ride!" He called, hastily getting up.

"I'd rather you didn't!" Was the airy, over the shoulder, reply.

"Stella, wait!"

"Bruce!" The two girls from before were like vultures, as soon as they saw Stella leave they swooped down upon him and blocked her from view. As he tried to detangle himself his peripheral vision caught movement. He turned his head to see two men swiftly rising from their seats and follow the leaving blonde out of the restaurant's doors. His blood ran cold.

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**Think the beginning was boring but the end should have made up for it :) Hope you liked! xx**


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